A Love That Endures
by janiedoe12
Summary: This story begins at Matthew's first proposal in S1, Episode 6. It is my take on the proposal we never got to see and my alternate version of what happened following the proposal.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** _

_This story begins at Matthew's first proposal in S1, Episode 6. It is my take on the proposal we never got to see and my alternate version of what happened following the proposal. The beginning of the story is taken entirely from the show. If you will recall, Mary and Matthew were sitting, having a drink and discussing the day after Sybil's injury at the political rally in Ripon._

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**_Spring 1914_**

Mary took a sip of her wine and smiled timidly at Matthew. His clear, blue eyes were so startling against his blonde hair. Despite her misgivings about his occupation, he looked rather smart in his work suit. She had always known that he was attractive, but as her early prejudices against him had started to fade, surprising feelings had surfaced, feelings she wasn't entirely sure of or comfortable with.

"Thank you for coming to Sybil's rescue. You were very brave. She told me you knocked a man down."

"I hope I did my duty," Matthew answered stoically, looking down at his drink.

"Are you a creature of duty?" she questioned. She had to know where he stood on this point. Lady Mary Crawley was not a creature of duty. If duty ordained that she do something, she stubbornly refused whether she wanted to or not. If there was any chance of her letting him in, she had to know that his actions were born of feeling and not some misguided sense of obligation.

"Not entirely," he responded. Surprised by her question, he looked up into her eyes, hoping to understand where she could be going with this conversation.

"When you laugh with me or flirt with me, is that a duty? Are you conforming to the fitness of things? Doing what's expected?" she asked.

"Don't play with me. I don't deserve it. Not from you," he said. Matthew quickly looked down to school his expression. He always felt like Mary could see right through him, as if his feelings for her were written all over his face.

He could never let her see how she affected him. Although they had certainly gotten off on the wrong foot, Matthew had come to feel a deep sense of longing for Mary's presence, for her company. The now familiar ache in his chest was ever present.

He knew she was only teasing him. Her acerbic comments towards him in the past made her true opinion of him clear. But then other times, she was so confusing, flirting with him and speaking with him as if she found him interesting. No, no, he thought as he remembered the night she had thrown him over for that old bore Sir Anthony. She tolerated him as her father's heir. That was all.

"You must be careful not to break Sybil's heart. I think she has a crush on you."

Oh, why had she said that? Mary hated to be obvious and she felt with her last comment she had made it quite obvious she was jealous. And she _was_ jealous. Ever since her childish actions on that night with Sir Anthony, she had yearned for Matthew to look at her as he once did. She deeply regretted her behavior, but she feared it was too late to correct it. What if Matthew truly did have intentions toward her innocent little sister?

"That's something no one could accuse you of," Matthew replied with a glare, unsure of Mary's point. Surely, she could not think he had intentions toward Sybil. No…. Sybil was so young and he had done nothing to make anyone think he cared-

His thoughts were interrupted by Mary's quiet, yet astonishing reply.

"Oh, I don't know."

Matthew's expression twisted in confusion. She couldn't mean that she had feelings for him. No, it couldn't be. She was just playing games with him again.

"I assume you speak in the spirit of mockery."

"You should have more faith," she said as she stared intently into his beautiful eyes.

Matthew stared back at her in disbelief.

"Should I remind you of some of the choicest remarks you made about me since I arrived here? Because they live in my memory fresh as the day they were spoken."

Mary looked down and sighed. Why was she always opening her mouth when it was much more prudent to keep it closed?

"Oh Matthew, what am I always telling you, you must pay no attention to the things I say."

When she looked back up from her lap, into his eyes, Matthew's heart skipped a beat. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, the realization of what was happening slowly working its way through each of them.

It dawned on Matthew that his longing for her, that ache in his chest for her, was love…and could it be that she felt the same. He slowly took her face in his hands, staring into her eyes, silently asking for permission, as he moved forward to kiss her. Her lips were so soft as they pressed to his. All his mother's lessons on behaving like a gentleman flew out the window as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her into his lap, and deepened their kiss.

The feelings rushing through them were all-consuming. She felt like she couldn't get close enough to him as she clung to his neck tightly with one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He felt like he was on fire. With one arm around her waist and the other cradling her head, Matthew began trailing kisses down her neck. She sighed in pleasure as he began to kiss his way up the other side of her neck, stopping to nuzzle under her jaw and breathe in her sweet scent. Mary whimpered at the loss of his lips, pulling him closer, arching her chest against him. He gasped at the feel of her hardening nipples against his body and sucked in a breath, trying valiantly to control his baser desires. Taking her warm cheeks in his hands, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, letting the rightness and wonder of his feelings for her wash over him.

"Mary, you must realize how I feel about you. I, I…" He whooshed out a breath and buried his face in her neck. She rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his hair as he gathered his thoughts. Matthew knew he needed to tell her, but he was paralyzed with fear. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if she rejected him? He now knew what it felt like to hold her and touch her. He couldn't bear to lose that.

But concealing his feelings would accomplish nothing. They had played games before and he didn't want to do that again. Matthew wanted to be with Mary and Mary alone. She would be going to London soon and he could not take the chance of another taking her from him. She must feel as he…certainly after their passionate embrace. Though Mary might fancy herself a rebel, Matthew knew that in truth she was not.

Resolved, he lifted his head from her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes, fighting to maintain his composure. "Mary, I love you," he said, his voice cracking. He cradled her head tenderly as he chastely kissed her lips. Gently removing her from his lap, Matthew placed her back in her chair and kneeled beside it, holding her hand in his.

"I know this is not the proper way to go about things…I should speak to your father first….but Mary, I love you. I've hated this tension, this rift between us. I've missed you. And I know you aren't mine to miss, but I want you to me. I never want to find myself apart from you. Will you marry me?" he asked, a mixture of love and terror shining in his eyes.

Mary was momentarily stunned by his request….she felt unprepared, she wasn't expecting a proposal. Her usually unshakeable poise evaporated as a wide smile spread across her face without her permission at the thought of being Matthew's wife and she dropped her eyes to her lap. He said he loved her. She could just see the two of them in her mind, running Downton together, as the Earl and Countess of Grantham, with a family of their own. She could have what she always wanted…real love and her home.

.

As quickly as her happy daydreams appeared, they vanished when the enormity of what had occurred struck her and harsh truths surfaced. Matthew was a good man, an honorable man….and he _loved_ her. She could not be false to him. She could not accept him….not until he truly knew her character.

The thought of confiding her indiscretion to him filled her with foreboding. Mary knew she would eventually have to tell him, but not tonight. The acute fear she felt at him knowing her shameful secret held her back. She could not bear his scorn, not when he had just confessed his love.

Composing her expression, she lifted her eyes to Matthew, taking in his expectant face. She exhaled and smiled demurely. "I'm afraid you've surprised me, may I have some time to think it over?"

Matthew tried not to appear as deflated as he felt at her response. He hoped his disappointment wasn't written all over his face as he returned her gaze. "Of course, take as long as you like."

Neither broke their stare as they stood, their hands still clasped. Seeking reassurance, Matthew placed his hands on her hips and pulled her into a gentle hug. She stiffened, causing his stomach to sink in dread, but then returned his embrace, releasing a breath as she held him tight. When he pulled away, his palms framed her face and he looked at her tenderly, imploring her to understand, "Mary, I know you need time, but please remember that I love you."

Mary relaxed at his words and she allowed him one more chaste kiss on the cheek and one to her hand before releasing him. He squeezed her hand one last time before leaving her and making his way to Crawley house for the night.

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**A/N:** Let me know what you think! Is that how you imagined it?

**I'm from America, so keep in mind I haven't seen any of S3 yet**

**Next Up: ** We'll hear some about the events during their separation while Mary is in London for Sybil's coming out and then the garden party


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This chapter picks up right off from the last. Mary is preparing to go to London for the season and Matthew is anxious._

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Chapter 2:

Almost a week later, Mary was in the library looking for a few books to take with her to London. Though Edith couldn't understand why she would need reading material when she would be so busy with the events of the season, Mary found that keeping herself occupied was the best medicine for the worry that had plagued her mind since Matthew's proposal.

She was in quite a predicament. A predicament that she saw no good way out of, that she had no answer for.

Mary wanted to marry Matthew, of that she had no doubt. But she could not believe that his love for her would remain when he learned her secret. It was too grave a transgression. And yet, she could not keep the secret and accept his proposal….no matter how much she might want to.

Perhaps it would be better to have Matthew believe that she did not love him? Would it hurt him less to think his love unrequited or to have his heart torn asunder by the news of her poor character? Even supposing that lying was the better choice, could she do so to his face?

Fearing the loss of his love was inevitable, Mary had avoided him since the night of the political rally, spending most of her time alone struggling with her thoughts. She made herself scarce whenever Matthew came by to look over estate matters with her father. When he and Isobel had come to dinner at the big house the day before, she made sure she was seated too far from him for conversation and excused herself from any socializing afterwards with claims of a headache.

Poor Matthew was, at first, puzzled. Mary had seemed to return his feelings…if not by her physical reactions to his affections, by the look of joy on her face when he proposed. As the days passed, his worry and anxiety mounted as the possible reasons for her behavior came to roost in his mind.

Mary had been a mystery since their first meeting. When Matthew expected one reaction of her, she gave another. In fact, he had on more than one occasion believed she held affection for him, only to have her throw him over for another chap. Why should this time be any different?

The realization that he may have so badly misjudged Mary's feelings gutted him. Matthew knew it was awfully dramatic to feel like he would die of a broken heart if she refused him, but he could not shake the despair that washed over him at the thought. Not only would he lose her if she rejected him, but he would lose the new life he was making for himself in York for he could not stay at Downton with the constant reminders of what he had lost all around him.

It surprised him how much he had come around to the idea of being the next Earl of Grantham. Matthew would have once thought that the loss of the title would've been a welcome relief, but now he was not so sure. He would miss Lord Grantham, if not some of the other family members, and he would miss the estate itself. There was so much he would have to do to prepare to go back to Manchester, his mind was reeling.

Driven mad with his chaotic thoughts, Matthew resolved that he must have her answer before she left for London. He could not remain in a state of unknowing for the next few days, let alone weeks. With that notion, he set out for Downton to get his answer.

Matthew found Mary in Lord Grantham's personal library with her back to the door, busily shuffling through books. He watched her for a time, recognizing that their next conversation would be defining. Although not knowing was torture, he still had hope. Her refusal would dash all hope, condemning him to the life he had so vividly contemplated since her plea for time.

"Mary," he called out quietly.

She turned around, startled by his unexpected appearance, but swiftly regained her composure. "Matthew, I didn't know we were expecting you."

"You weren't, I'm afraid," he said as he approached her cautiously. He tried to get a read on her feelings by examining her beautiful face. When her smooth expression betrayed nothing, he reached for her hand.

Despite her efforts to remain aloof, Mary could not help herself as she accepted his warm hand in hers. Matthew focused on their joined hands as he began, trying to remember all he had rehearsed in his head. "You've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I haven't. I told you I needed time to consider your proposal," Mary replied.

Matthew's eyes rose to hers and he rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. "You've had almost a week, Mary. Is that not enough time?" he asked, his voice timid yet tinged with exasperation.

"I, it's a big decision…" she trailed off. Even with a week of internal debate, Mary had still not determined her best course. Should she lie and spare him the knowledge of her shame or tell him the truth and watch his love turn to disgust?

Matthew's expression hardened as he steeled himself for her refusal. To him, her continued indecision spoke volumes. "It all seems rather simple to me. Either you love me as I love you, or you don't."

The love and pain in his full blue eyes was Mary's undoing. She had to confess all to him. She would bear whatever came, before she could lie to him.

"Oh Matthew, I do love you," she began. Elated by her response, Matthew pulled her closer to him, placing their joined hands on his cheek and slipping his other arm around her waist as he kissed her chastely.

Mary allowed the contact for a few moments, relishing what might be their last intimate embrace, before breaking their kiss and raising her eyes to his. The desolation reflected in them caused Matthew's joy to stop short. "My darling, what is the matter?"

Dropping his hand and moving out of his reach, she stepped over to the window and looked out at the grounds. "Would you go on a walk with me? It's a beautiful day."

"Of course," he replied, both concerned and confused.

.

.

They walked in silence until they were well out of earshot of the house. Stopping under a shaded tree, Mary stared straight ahead, crossing her arms. "I do love you, Matthew, but there is something you don't know about me, something that will cause you to despise me."

As she took a deep breath, readying herself to continue, Matthew cut in, "But-"

"No, please, let me get this out. If you stop me, I don't know that I'll have the strength to finish."

Yielding to her request, he remained where he was and said nothing further.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the rolling lands of the estate as a light breeze ruffled her skirts. "Please know that after I tell you this, I will not hold you to your proposal. I won't expect anything from you."

Mary let a few seconds of silence pass between them before finally beginning her sordid tale. "You may recall a visitor to Downton some time ago by the name of Kemal Pamuk. He came with Evelyn Napier to experience an English hunt and unfortunately never left alive."

Gathering all the courage she could muster, she continued in a shaky voice. "What you don't know is that Mr. Pamuk did not die in his bed as everyone believes, he died in mine."

Matthew stood still in shock as Mary waited stiffly for his response. His mind would not draw the obvious conclusion that she intended. Grappling with a certainty he did not wish to accept, he began questioning her, trying to make sense of what she'd said. "I don't understand, h-how? How could that happen?"

"There is no sense in knowing the hows and whys, they won't change anything. It is simply enough that it happened," she replied quietly, still afraid to look at him.

"They matter to me, Mary," Matthew said with unshed tears, shining in his eyes. "Please, you must tell me. All of it."

Horrified, but resigned, Mary gave him what he wanted. "I was angry for….many reasons at the time and I do admit I flirted with him. I did not realize, with his not being an Englishman, that he would take my attentions as he did. He…he, well, he rather shockingly kissed me after dinner, barely beyond Papa's line of sight."

Mary swallowed in an effort to keep her tears at bay. "I thought I made myself quite clear when I told him I did not appreciate his advances, but apparently I did not because he came to my room later that evening."

Matthew's hand fell from where it covered his mouth and his brow furrowed in anger. "So he was uninvited. Did he force you-"

Mary hugged herself, shaking her head as she looked down at the ground. "Oh what does it matter, Matthew? I didn't invite him, but in the end I let him do as he wished. Excuses are just that, excuses."

"I've already told you that it matters to _me_," Matthew replied in a quiet, stern voice. "Please, Mary."

"I threatened to scream, but he told me it was no use. My reputation would be ruined if anyone found him in my room regardless of my claims that he was unwelcome." Mary brought her fist to her mouth, unsure of how she would tell him the more base details. "And then he, he….."

"Go on," Matthew gently coaxed.

Taking another deep breath, Mary began to blurt the rest of it out as quickly as possible. "He told me that I could still be a virgin for my husband and seeing that I was quite literally backed into a corner, I took the easy way out and put up no resistance. He died in the midst of….it,"

"I know that this changes everything between us and I understand. Please don't worry, I'll take whatever blame must be meted out for our separation. I'll be in London in two days time, so that will relieve you of my presence. I'll, well I'll try to stay on with Aunt Rosamund as long as I can. I am so sorry for this Matthew, more sorry than you'll ever know," Mary said, her voice shaking as she finished. She wrung her hands and watched him carefully as she waited on his reaction.

When Matthew remained silent after several minutes, she could bear it no longer. "Please say something…"

"I…..," Matthew trailed off and sighed deeply. His feelings were all over the place. He was angry at Mary, conflicted at how she'd been treated, affronted that another man had touched her, jealous, betrayed, yet wanting desperately to justify her actions. But how could he? How could he when Mary had willingly given herself to another man? "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know that there is anything to say."

Having told herself for days to expect rejection, Mary nodded her head, accepting his words as final.

"I'll leave you then. Goodbye, Matthew."

With one last look at his hunched form, Mary quickly turned and made for the house, her face a mask of practiced indifference.

It was not until she reached her room and shut the door that she allowed herself the luxury of tears.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


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